


She's Gonna Go

by ZeraHenna



Series: the Haze [5]
Category: The Haze - Fandom
Genre: "haha i shal now look up "butts and find a lovely fanfiction abou---, ---whAT THE FUCK IS THIS", Addiction, Altered Mental States, Blood, Blood and Gore, Butts, Confusion, F/F, Gen, HHAHAHA YEAH, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of Murder, Multiple Personalities, Oops, Other, confusing i guess, here lets tag this as, i am having way too much fun in the tags, im so evil, its just sort of normal? for them?, its only polite i mean look at the mess you made, jeez crissy at least kill people in the bathroom, just an every day experence, lots and lots of blood, none of the characters really care that theirs a murdered person in the house, sugar addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraHenna/pseuds/ZeraHenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sittin on the rift<br/>On whats wrong and whats right,<br/>I'm sittin on the rift<br/>Playin' God all night</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Gonna Go

Blood. Everywhere.

I glance at it as I set my keys down on the only clean space on the kitchen counter.

Blood on the floor, on the lampshade, soaked on the corner of your bedsheet that is caught between the door and the frame.

I'm not the only one here. My girlfriend breathes in surprise and almost drops the paper bag full of my sweets, but recovers quickly.

It's deathly quiet in the apartment. I hum a faint tune as I put the tea kettle on and fish out the TARDIS cookie jar that we use to hold sugar cubes from the upper cabinet. My girfriend turns to the blood trail but stays silent, hand outreached to the bloody door knob but not close enough to actually open the door the rest of the way.

I pull out two tea cups and muffle the clatter, slipping my hand into the grocery bag and rummaging around until my hand brushed the sleek cardboard of the tea box. I grabbed and retrieved it, opening the plastic seal with an unused knife. The kettle started to sing and I quickly shut the burner off, tossing two tea bags in the mugs and dumping sugar in mine, and just the right ammount in yours.

The tea steeped and the faint smell of herbs filled the small space, drifting down the hall and into your room. I smile as I hear a muffled sound of movement from your room. Setting down the mugs on the cluttered counter, I start to move all the sweets from the bag into my designated "sweet shelf", which was really just a cabinet stuffed with candy and homemade pastries. 

Your door creaked as you cracked open the door, poking your head out to eye the tea cup that I had set right in your field of vision. You glance at my girlfriend warily, as if she is about to snap and bite, and then huff at her when she makes a move to come closer to you.

"Dont."

Your voice is faint and the untrusting note in your tone makes my girlfriend step back and retreat into the living room, flicking on the TV. I wince and you hiss at the loud sound of an episode of a generic cop show peirced the silence. She quickly turns it down, glancing at me apologetically. 

Once you spot me in the kitchen, your eyes glimmer and you take a step over the bloody sheet, to get to the kitchen.

"Tea." You state, eyeing the cup with interest. 

"Yeah." My tone is light, carefree, and you cling to that, stepping closer and closer until you are huddled in the corner of the kitchen with the tea two feet away.

"Mine?" You tilt your head to the left, eyes narrowing. Gesturing towards my girlfriend. Asking a deeper question. _Is this mine, or hers?_

"Yeah. I made it just how you like it. But no honey, because that seemed to make you get a headache last time." I pull down a huge Twix bar from the sweets shelf and open it as silently as the wrapper would allow.

You clutch at the mug, wrapping shaking fingers around the handle, and watch me as I hop up on the counter opposite and dangle my feet so the bump silently on the cabinets and eat my overly large candy bar. Your eyes watch as my hands settle out from a slight tremor to bold and steady, the smaller the candy bar gets.

_Addiction._

We seem to have a problem about that.

You glance at the blood that is drying on your toes and make a small noise from the back of your throat.

You rush at me, slide down to press your forehead on my knees and stare to the side as you sink to your knees and grip your cup in one hand at my jean pant leg in the other.

"She said. Said I was. Was going to die. And then. Then I told her." You squint at some blood splatter on one of the white drawers, eyes ablaze but muted; you are locked in there, in your Hotel, and someone else was here with me--but that is okay. Everything was okay. You are fine. Just not here.

"I told her she was wrong. I wasn't gonna go." You sniff the tea. "She was."

I hum, patting your hair and looking around at the crimson splattered all over the place.

_Beautiful._

"Did she argue?" I ask, slipping the wrapper off the rest if the candy bar and watch as the chocolate melts onto my fingertips.

"She tried to." You nod, then shrug, lifting the mug to your lips and sip the tea. "She was very bad at it."

I chuckle, taking in the pools of red and smears of dark ruby.

"Next time, use the gun, or at least knock them out and bring them in the tub. They stain, you know."

"Oh." You sip and sit and sip and sit and stay silent for another ten minutes.

The sounds of a muffled sigh and my girlfriend turning off the TV and gathering her things drift into the kitchen. She emerges, smiles at me and then you, and whispers good byes and gives a wave. "Lets not be so messy next time, yeah?" She offers, and then leaves silently. 

The silence is comfortable and you shift after a few minutes to lean back against my legs. Your mug is empty but you still clutch it in your grasp.

"She can't see Them." You sigh, sounding sad.

"Not many of us can. She can hear them."

"Are we broken?" You ask suddenly, staring at your blood-caked foot and wiggling your toes. Flecks of dried blood drift from your foot and float to the floor.

I pause, cocking my head to the side and my eyebrows mash together in a look that ideally meant I am thinking.

"Maybe." I amend. "But maybe everyone else is broken, and we are fixed." I shrug. "Maybe we arn't meant to be here, right now. Maybe we are different because we were meant to be so." I smile. "I donno."

You pause, and then press the back of your head into back into my legs.

"She told me I was going to die."

"She clearly got her facts mixed up." 

You laugh at that, a strangled but a very _you_ sound. "Yeah."

**Author's Note:**

> To Crissy.... I think you should read the tags... I went a bit crazy with them.


End file.
